Holiday Hangover
by BoomerCat
Summary: Scott's Christmas time gets off to a bad start. Pre-I.R.


Lt. Scott Tracy startled awake at the loud booming sound that vibrated the walls of his childhood bedroom in Kalvesta, Kansas. With a groan, he dragged a pillow over his head, but it was no use, nothing could drown out the unholy noise of what passed as teenage music from down the hall.

Deciding he'd get up and kill whoever it was that had awakened him, he pulled himself up into something that would have to pass for an upright position. With his eyes squeezed shut, he dropped his poor aching head into his hands. He vowed that last night was the last time he'd ever get into a drinking contest with his younger brother, Virgil.

Both home for the holidays, Scott had taken his brother out last night for his first 'official' Tracy bender. Virgil had only turned 21 this year, and Scott took it upon himself to teach the younger man the foibles of too much drink. Unfortunately, Virgil had proven to have a strong constitution, and the apparent ability to drink his older brother under the table. Unfortunate, because Scott's competitive nature refused to let him quit going toe to toe way beyond any threshold of common sense.

Scott would have shaken his head at the thought, but there seemed to be a real danger of his cranium exploding with too much motion. He ventured a tiny frown as his mind supplied a momentary visual of his brother John's disgusted face. He couldn't quite remember why John had been at the bar, but he had the distinct impression that the younger man had been there.

For a moment, there was some slight relief as the booming music came to a halt, but Scott barely had a chance to draw a breath before it started up again, louder and more dissonant than before. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, Scott forced himself to an unsteady standing position.

He tried stumbling to the door with his eyes closed, but the stumble nearly became a tumble as his feet tangled with jeans he had discarded the night before. With a curse, Scott reached out and stopped his fall by grabbing onto the chest of drawers.

He leaned on the chest, and took a glance at himself in the attached mirror. Big mistake. The fright mask staring back at him was nothing like his own confident countenance. He thought ruefully that if his commanding officer were to see him now, he'd be grounded for the rest of his career. Worse, if his father or grandmother were to see him, his ass would be toast.

Oh God. His grandmother! He was supposed to go down to Dodge City to pick her up at the airport. Ruth Tracy was a selfless woman, but for one week a year, she insisted on a brief vacation away from the family. She always went off with her best friend, Tina Fought, to places like Branson, Missouri, or Dollywood.

Scott closed his eyes in real pain. If he showed up in Dodge with a hangover, his grandma wouldn't say a thing, she'd just purse her lips in disappointment. That was far worse than anything she might say, and Scott always worked very hard to be sure he never was subjected to that silence.

Of course, the silence would be relative. His Aunt Tina wouldn't hesitate for a moment to tell him exactly what she thought of him. There was no way he was going to face that. Virgil would just have to fill in for him. That's all there was to it.

He looked again at himself in the mirror. What an idiot. Never again, he swore to himself. He watched as his reflection vibrated in time to the pounding of his head. It took a moment, but he gradually realized the vibration was actually coming from the pounding music that still hadn't let up.

Suddenly annoyed, he opened his bedroom door, and started for his brother's room. He hadn't taken more than a step when Virgil's door slammed open, and the man himself came staggering out, murder in his eye.

Virgil stared blearily at Scott for a moment, then seemed to dismiss him. He stalked down the hall and shoved Alan's bedroom door open with a force that should have taken the door right off the hinges. "ALAN! TURN THAT SHIT OFF!"

Scott reached the doorway to find Alan lounging on his bed with a car magazine, staring at Virgil with the spiky-haired insolence that only a fifteen-year-old could achieve. "I don't think so. The house rules are I can turn up the music after ten A.M., and it's almost ten thirty."

Scott could see the muscles bunching in Virgil's shoulders as the young man prepared to force the issue. He put a hand on that tense shoulder, and said in a tone of reason, "Yes, Alan, the house rules say that, but I'm asking you, brother to brother, to turn it down. Virgil isn't feeling well."

The young blond sneered. "He isn't sick, and neither are you. You guys went out and got yourselves flayed last night and you're royally hung over. If I came home slobber-faced like you two did last night, you'd hang me out to dry."

Virgil pulled against Scott's hold on his shoulder. "It's none of your damn business what we did last night."

"It is when Johnny wakes me up at three in the morning to help him drag you up the stairs to bed!" Alan retorted hotly.

Virgil stopped, startled. With a frown, he said softly, "Nobody asked you to."

Alan rolled his eyes. "Hello? John did. He had to go pick you guys up at the bar because the bartender wouldn't let you drive. And it's a good thing. You probably would have killed yourselves if you'd tried."

Scott hoped his ears weren't colored with embarrassment like Virgil's were. "Okay, so you know that we're hung over. Are you playing the music to punish us? Is that what this is?"

Alan let out a breath. "No. I mean, not really. I didn't even think about it. Grandma's not home and I like to play it loud, is all."

Scott closed his eyes and sighed, "Then do you think you could turn it down? Please?"

As Scott expected, Alan reached over to a bedside table and grabbed a set of miniature headphones that he plugged into his entertainment system. The kid was a good kid basically, and had only reacted to Virgil's aggressive entrance. He slipped the headphones over his ears and shot a questioning glance to his oldest brother.

Scott managed a weak smile and a single nod of his head, and pulled on Virgil to get him to follow him out. Out in the hall, with the bedroom door closed, the music was just a painful memory. Looking his younger brother over, he said, "You going to live?"

Virgil let his head drop back. "God, I hope not."

Knowing how his brother felt, Scott just sighed, "I'm going to go get some water. Come on. Water helps with the headache."

With a groan, Virgil followed his brother down the stairs and into the kitchen. He moaned as he fell into a chair, "Why does the sun have to be so damn bright?"

Scott squinted out the kitchen window as he pulled the water pitcher from the refrigerator. Pulling down a couple of glasses from a cabinet, he padded over to the table. "Actually, it's overcast. Looks like snow."

Scott sat down and poured two glasses of water. He pushed one over to his brother, and holding his breath, downed half of his own glass. Virgil lifted his head slightly from where it rested on his folded arms on the table. Opening one eye a slit, he asked, "Do you remember John coming to pick us up?"

Scott extended his long legs under the table, and let his head fall to his chest. In as quiet a tone as he could manage, he replied, "Not really. I don't remember much after about the fifth shooter. Damn, Virg, you should have stopped."

"Me? I was just trying to keep up with you."

Downing more water, Scott examined his brother. "You look like hell."

Virgil cracked open his eye a bit wider. "Just taking after you."

"Okay, so we've both learned a lesson here, right? No more drinking competitions." Scott managed a rueful smile.

"No more drinking, period. I'm taking the pledge."

"Let's not get crazy."

"Yeah, let's not get crazy," John drawled as he came into the kitchen. "Although it's a bit late for you two."

Scott looked over at the nineteen-year-old. "Johnny, I hear you came and got us. Thanks, man."

"Yeah, thanks," Virgil murmured.

John turned around at the counter he was standing at, and with a dead cold voice, said, "Don't expect me to do it again."

Alarmed, Scott's head came up. "What? Why not?"

Virgil in the meantime was slowly shaking his head. "Never going to be necessary, kiddo."

Scott frowned at Virgil's interruption. "John, what happened? What did we do?"

"You're saying you don't remember? That's convenient."

The tone of anger got Virgil's attention too. Both men stared at their younger brother. After a few moments, Virgil spoke up, "Yes, John, we do not remember. We were both wasted last night. We only know that you came and got us because Alan told us."

"Johnny, you've got to know that anything we said or did we didn't mean, right? You know that, right?"

With a look of cool contempt, John put the glass he was holding down on the counter. "I've got to go."

"John, wait! Come on, man, tell us what happened. We can't make it right if you don't tell us." Scott was practically pleading.

John paused and considered his words. "Let's just say you two are mean drunks, and let it go at that."

"Would a blanket apology help? I'm sorry, and I know Scott is too. We'll make it up to you, okay?"

"Whatever." John moved to the back door.

"John, wait a minute. Listen, I need you to go pick up Grandma and Aunt Tina from the airport."

"Sorry, I've got plans," John replied, not sorry at all. He was out the door before Scott could say a thing, slamming it hard enough to make both brothers wince.

Scott and Virgil shared a glance before Virgil grunted, "That went well."

Scott sighed, "You know, I was really looking forward to this Christmas. Just spending some quality time with my brothers. Was that too much to ask?"

Virgil snorted. "You've been away too long. This IS the quality time."

Scott started a guffaw that turned into a moan. "Oh, God, Virg, don't make me laugh! My head is killing me."

"Sorry." The two brothers settled down into silence, occasionally sipping at the water. After a while, Virgil lifted his head again. "So, what are we going to do about Grandma?"

Scott started from the doze he had fallen into. "Huh? Oh. God, what time is it?"

"Uh, quarter after eleven."

"Okay. Well, she isn't due until two thirty. I'm just going to have to hope I feel better by then."

"You know, Gordy's got his license. We could send him."

Scott shook his head gingerly. "I wouldn't ask a sow to ride in that trash heap, and there's no way I'm trusting him with my car."

"Well, don't look at me. He's not taking my car either," Virgil responded firmly.

Their younger brother had only had his license for ten months, and already he had had two fender bender accidents, one of them in their father's prized Lexus. The only reason their father let the teen drive at all was because he was an Olympic-level swimmer, and practiced on a daily basis at the high school's pool. The practices were unreasonably early in the mornings and Jeff grudgingly agreed to let Gordon make the drive to and from school.

"Maybe he could take Grandma's car," Scott mused.

"Yeah, there's a plan. Saves on having to get her a Christmas present if she has a heart attack today."

"Yeah… What the hell?" Both Scott and Virgil cocked their heads at a rumbling that got louder by the minute. The sound became a dull roar before it suddenly cut out with a wheeze and rattle that finally identified it as a car engine.

Neither brother had the energy to investigate, but after a few moments, they could hear the heavy footsteps that immediately identified their brother Gordon. Sure enough, the redheaded teen pushed through the swinging kitchen door, and at the sight of his brothers, called out cheerfully, "Hi guys! How's it hanging?"

Scott winced at the boisterous tone. His brother's liveliness was hard to take at the best of times, and absolutely overbearing when one had a headache.

Oblivious to his older brothers' discomfort, the teen dove into the refrigerator, shoving things around until he found what he was looking for, a largish covered bowl. In a single fluid movement, he turned and thrust his prize into the microwave. Setting the timer, he turned around and leaned on the counter while grinning at his brothers. "I unofficially beat my best time today."

Virgil just stared dully at the teen, leaving it up to Scott to make suitable congratulatory noises. Scott obliged, knowing full well that Gordon didn't need anybody's approbation where his passion, swimming, was concerned. "Good job. What was that ungodly noise? What's wrong with your car?"

Gordon pulled a can of soda from the refrigerator. "Nothing's wrong. Well, practically nothing. Al and I were changing out the muffler yesterday, but we didn't get it done in time. We're going to install the new one this afternoon. You guys wanna help?"

"No, I've got to go pick up Grandma at the airport this afternoon. What about you, Virg?"

Virgil had been sitting quietly, but Scott noticed he was distinctly green around the gills when he turned and asked the question. His jaw working, Virgil shuddered. "What is that smell?"

Gordon glanced at the microwave. "It's that pork roast and sauerkraut from the other night. Sorry guys, there isn't enough to share, 'cause I'm totally starving."

Scott swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. The odor of the food heating was rank, and just the thought of pork brought him close to vomiting. Swallowing again, Scott said manfully, "No, we aren't interested in sharing. Why can't you eat a normal breakfast? Wheaties or Cheerios or something?"

"It's lunch time, in case you haven't noticed." The microwave dinged, and Gordon pulled his bowl out, letting off another wave of sharp smell. Seeming to notice his brothers for the first time, Gordon shoveled a serving spoon of greasy yellow-white cabbage into his mouth, saying, "Hey, are you guys okay? You look a little sick there, Virg."

"Oh God…" Virgil covered his mouth, and hurried to the sink, where he stood bent over, fighting back the urge to empty his stomach. Scott stayed where he was, eyes closed swallowing over and over again.

"Geez! You guys got the flu? Stay away from me, I don't wanna be sick for Christmas." Scott opened his eyes to see Gordon backing away from the sink, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

Knowing full well that Gordon would hear all about it from Alan, Scott said, "No, it's not the flu. We both had too much to drink last night, and we aren't feeling so good. And that pork is not helping."

Gordon looked down at the offending bowl, and with a shrug, scooped another large spoonful into his mouth. Shaking his head and grinning, he commented, "Picking up Grandma while hung over. Not a choice I'd make, but then, I intend to live long and prosper."

"Just get that crap out of here," Virgil said wearily from his head down position by the sink.

Gordon hadn't slowed down his eating, and now looked over at Virgil and said, "Here's a better idea. I'm done. Move away, dude, 'cause I'm coming over there to rinse out the bowl."

Virgil shot the teen a look. "I thought you wanted to live long."

Gordon's eyes twinkled. "Did I say that? I think I meant a short life and merry. Seriously, if I put this in the dishwasher without rinsing, Grandma will be displeased, and I don't want her displeased this close to Christmas. It might lower the gift count."

Virgil gave up the fight and moved back to the table. Gordon looked at his brothers with something akin to sympathy. "Hey, I've got some LifeReboot if you want it."

LifeReboot was a new product touted to lessen the effects of a hangover, and Scott was not happy that his underage brother would even know about it, let alone have access to it. Scott frowned. "Why do you have LifeReboot?"

Gordon smiled sweetly, "To help my poor pathetic older brothers when they get all blasted."

"You'd better not be drinking."

"Whoa. Pot. Kettle. Black, Scotty."

"You're underage, Gordon."

"Enough," Virgil barked. "Gordon, yes, please, I'd appreciate the LifeReboot."

Scott wasn't sure if he was ready to let the subject of Gordon drinking drop, but for Virgil's sake, he nodded his head. "Yeah, me too. Thanks, kiddo."

Gordon nodded and turned to the sink. He rinsed out the bowl, and put it in the dishwasher with more clatter that Scott believed was strictly necessary. Once the chore was done, Gordon turned toward the back door.

Scott frowned, "Hey, where are you going?"

"The barn," Gordon replied.

The teen was almost out the door when Virgil called out, "Wait! You promised to get us that LifeReboot!"

Gordon snorted derisively, "I am. What, you think I'm going to keep something like that in my bedroom, where any snooping Grandma could find it? Please. I'll be right back."

Scott frowned. "I don't like him keeping stuff from Grandma."

Virgil cocked an eyebrow. "Pot, kettle, black, Scott."

Scott ducked his head. Yes, he had had a secret spot where he kept things that he didn't want his grandmother or father to know about, but it seemed very different. Gordon was just a little kid, albeit one with an Olympic medal in a case on the fireplace.

He shook his head. "You know, Virg, it's hard to think of him as anything other than a four-year-old dragging around that stupid stuffed octopus."

Virgil smiled fondly, "Oh Lord, that octopus."

Scott returned the smile, but keeping it on his face was way too much effort, so he let it, and his head drop. Virgil was fine with that, and put his own head back down on his crossed arms on the kitchen table.

Both were startled when the swinging kitchen door burst open, and Alan came bouncing in. "Hey, did you guys see Gordy? Where is he?"

Deciding responding vocally was too much effort, both Scott and Virgil pointed toward the back door. The boy bounced his way out of the house, slamming the door behind him, eliciting a twin groan from his oldest brothers.

A little while later, Gordon came back in, holding two foil packs of drugs. "Here ya go, guys. Instructions say take with a full glass of water."

Scott pushed himself up and picked up the small package and ripped it open. To his surprise, there were actually three different pills. "Do I take all three as the same time?"

"Yeah," Gordon replied as he refilled the two water glasses for his brothers. "Two of them are like, vitamins, and one is the cure."

Scott and Virgil exchanged a glance, then clinked their glasses together. Scott tossed back the pills, and took a healthy swig of the water, and watched as Virgil did the same.

"How long before it kicks in?" Virgil asked wearily.

"About thirty minutes. Trust me, you'll feel tons better."

Suddenly annoyed, Scott speared the teen with a look. "And how would you know that?"

Gordon batted his eyes and said sweetly, "I've watched the commercials."

"Gordon…" Scott's nascent lecture withered in his throat at the sound of a shriek from the backyard.

Hangover notwithstanding, both Scott and Virgil bolted to their feet. Scott's adrenaline kicked in. He hadn't heard Alan scream like that in years.

Before he could rush to the kid's aid, the back door was flung open, and Alan stumbled in, holding on to his nose, his hands bloody. Scott was at his side in a flash, Virgil not a second behind. Alan was rocking back and forth moaning in pain.

Supporting the kid, Scott tried to get a look. "What happened? Allie, let me see. C'mon kiddo, move your hand, let me see."

"My nose! Scott, my nose!" Alan continued to moan, but didn't move his hands. Scott was still trying to see the damage, when Alan straightened. "Oh, God! My nose! Virg, here, put it on ice, maybe they can reattach it!"

Alan shoved something into Virgil's hand. Scott got a glimpse of something pale and fleshy as Virgil juggled it like a hot potato.

"Ohmigod!" Gordon cried, "What did you do?"

Virgil finally dropped the sizeable chunk of flesh on the kitchen counter, and for a moment, everything stopped as all four brothers stared in mute horror. Scott realized a piece that size could mean permanent disfigurement for his youngest brother.

Virgil suddenly bolted to the sink, and began seriously tossing his cookies. Scott had to fight the nausea back to tend to his brother. He was still trying to get the boy to move his hand so he could see how bad it was, but Alan was holding on to his face with a death grip.

Gordon was still staring mesmerized by the bloody piece of flesh on the countertop. Scott couldn't deal with that and Alan both, so he ordered, "Gordon, get some ice!"

Gordon didn't move from where he was, and instead asked suspiciously, "Okay, Al, what happened?"

Alan stopped the piteous moaning, and wiping his hands said brightly, "Jack Frost was nipping at my nose."

Scott froze as Virgil roared, "What?"

Scott winced at the decibel level, but didn't otherwise react. Alan stood there grinning like it was the funniest thing in the world. Gordon had casually moved to place himself between his foolish younger brother and Virgil who had fire in his eye.

"Dude, seriously, you gotta work on your timing," Gordon said, shaking his head. "Way too close to Christmas for something like this."

Alan smirked. "Actually, I think my timing was excellent. Johnny bet me fifty bucks I couldn't get either Scott or Virgil to puke. I scored the money, so, again, the timing was primo."

Gordon blinked once, then just stepped aside, giving Virgil a clear shot at the fifteen-year-old. Virgil closed on the boy, his fists clenched. With an exasperated sigh, Scott grabbed Virgil's arm to stop him.

"Alan, what the hell did you think you were doing? Why would you take a bet like that? You had to know it would piss us off."

Apparently oblivious to the danger, Alan rolled his eyes. "Because Christmas is coming, and I need the bucks to buy presents."

Scott frowned. "Didn't you help Mr. Milstein to bring in his corn? I thought you were doing that for Christmas money."

"Yeah, I did, but I used that money for something else."

"Geez, Al, I told you I'd cover you." Gordon shook his head.

Virgil got in Alan's face. "You spent the money on yourself, didn't you? You bought yourself some damn toy, and now you're feeling guilty so you figure you'll do something stupid to try and con us out of money."

Virgil, despite Scott's restraining hand, had been poking his youngest brother in the chest, hard. Alan slapped the hand away. "I don't need your money. I've got my own. But hey, it is courtesy of you, so, thanks a lot."

The snotty attitude just angered Virgil more, and Scott for a moment thought he'd actually hit Alan. "Virg."

Scott's quiet command got his brother to back off, but didn't make him quiet. With a look that could melt holes in titanium, Virgil shook his finger at his brother saying, "I hope this was worth it, you selfish brat. I hope screwing up Christmas for everybody was worth your damn toy."

Alan snorted and stiffly strode from the kitchen. Gordon stood looking at his elder brothers, shaking his head. "So, what did you two do?"

Scott, who like Virgil, had wearily resumed his place at the kitchen table, stopped rubbing his eyes, and looked up at the red head. "What are you talking about?"

"Wow, you must really be hurting."

Scott sighed. "Yes, Gordon, I am hurting. Either say what you mean, or shut the hell up."

Gordon grinned, unoffended. "Think about it. Al's no dummy. He wouldn't pull something like this on his own. Hell, he even told you it was John, the puppet master. So, what did you do to get Johnny so mad that he'd set Al up like this?"

Scott blinked. He started to say something, but then stopped. From where he sat with his head down on the table, Virgil said, "What makes you think it was us? Seems like Alan is going to be the one that gets the worst of it."

Gordon rolled his eyes. "We're talking John here. He probably was mad at Alan for something he did in kindergarten. No, you guys must have done something to really piss him off. So, what was it?"

Scott sighed and shook his head. "Yeah, John's mad at us, but Alan shouldn't have gone along with it. Why doesn't he have money, Gordy? He was crowing about how much he made last September."

"You know how Mr. Peterson got hurt last month?"

"Mr. Peterson?" Virgil's head came up from the table and he frowned. "No, what happened?"

Gordon looked mildly surprised that his brothers hadn't heard. "Oh, well, the hoist at the school broke, and he pushed a kid out of the way, but he got clipped. Broke, like, half of his ribs, and his leg and everything."

"Crap, Gordy, why didn't you tell me?" Virgil said with real anguish. The high school auto shop teacher had long been a mentor of the young man.

Gordon shrugged. "I dunno, I guess I just thought Grandma told you. She writes you all the time."

"Well, she didn't. Where is he? Is he still in the hospital?"

"No, he's in some rehab place over in Garden City. Alan knows where."

Wanting to bring the topic back to his original question, Scott asked, "Why would Al know where Mr. Peterson is?"

"Al's been dating his daughter, Candace."

Scott nodded, "Okay, so what does that have to do with Alan not having money?"

"Because Mr. Peterson has, like, a thousand kids, and with him on disability, they don't have any money for Christmas. Al gave all of his money to Candy so she could buy presents for all the little ones. I told him he could have half of what I'd saved, but I guess he wanted more."

Scott frowned, looking over to Virgil. "How many kids does he have?"

Pale and upset, Virgil shook his head. "Eight. He has eight kids. Candy is the oldest."

"How much money did Al give the girl, Gordon?"

"About two hundred dollars."

Scott and Virgil exchanged a glance. "That won't go very far."

"Hey, at least it's something," Gordon said defensively. "And we're going to ask Grandma to get them a basket from the church."

"They're catholic, right? Maybe I could have a word with Father Tom," Scott said thoughtfully.

The kitchen door slammed open, and Alan strode in, apparently ready for round two. Scott had been half expecting it. Alan had a talent for coming back at a guy once he'd had a chance to work up his anger.

Before he could say anything, Virgil stood up, and pulled the startled teen into a bear hug. "I'm sorry, Al. I'm sorry I said you were selfish. I'm sorry I called you a brat."

Scott could see the anger drain out of his youngest brother. The boy pushed out of the hug and said, warily, "And you don't think I was trying to ruin Christmas?"

Virgil cocked an eyebrow. "No, that would be John."

"Hey, you guys called him a prickless coward. And worse, you laughed at him."

Scott let out a breath. "Ah geez. No wonder he was so mad."

John hated being laughed at. Virgil frowned, then shook his head. "We'll have to fix that later. Al, where is this rehab that Mr. Peterson is in?"

"It's on Spruce Street in Garden City. You going over there? Can I come?"

"Hey, wait, you said you'd help me with my muffler," Gordon frowned.

"I will, but Candace never gets to go visit her Dad. I thought we could take her."

"So you're not going for yourself, you want to take Candy Peterson?"

"She goes by Candace now, Virg. Yeah. She never gets to go, because when her mom goes, she has to stay home and baby-sit."

"Call her up. Tell her to be ready. We'll leave as soon as I get ready."

"Uh, in what? Last I checked, the only car outside is mine," Gordon said as he reached in the refrigerator for a second can of soda.

Scott felt himself deflated. "Damn it. Our cars are still at the bar."

Virgil looked around like an answer could be found in the room. Deflating himself, he looked over at Gordon. "Will you drive me into town?"

The red head smiled. "Will you help with my muffler when you get home?"

Virgil nodded, and Scott put an approving hand on the teen's shoulder. "We both will. But we'll take Grandma's car, not yours. You can get ticketed for excessive noise, you know."

"Cool!" Gordon and Alan were both smiling hugely, reminding Scott how much his brothers loved any attention from the older members of the tribe.

With a nod, Virgil said, "I'm getting dressed. Alan, you come with us so we don't have to come all the way back here."

"Okay. I'm ready to go whenever you guys are."

Scott followed Virgil up the stairs. As he reached his bedroom, Virgil stopped and turned to his brother. "What are we going to do about John?"

"Grovel," Scott sighed.

Virgil rolled his eyes and entered his room. Scott went into his own room, and opened a drawer to pull out some underwear. As he got dressed, he realized that the pain in his head had reduced to a manageable throb.

He stood in front of the mirror, and nodded. He was by no means squared away for review, but he looked a damn sight better than he had earlier. He finished dressing and headed for the bathroom.

He found Virgil standing in front of the bathroom mirror, shaving. "Move over a bit."

Virgil obliged without comment, and Scott worked on his own grooming. His time in the military had taught him not to dawdle, so he and Virgil were ready at essentially the same time.

Virgil leaned his hands on the sink, and looking in the mirror, said, "Damn, that stuff of Gordon's is good."

"Yeah, I feel pretty good, considering."

"Considering what?"

"Considering John."

"I've been thinking about that. I figure the only way to show John that we didn't mean anything by it, is to take him out and get him shit-faced."

Scott laughed, but Virgil was in earnest. "No, think about it, Scott. John never takes anybody's word for anything. You have to show him. We take him out, get him so drunk he can't remember anything, and the next morning, he'll understand we weren't responsible for what happened last night."

Scott held up his hand. "No, don't even go there. It's an easy out to say we weren't responsible because we were drunk, but we were responsible for the decision to drink in the first place."

Virgil snorted, "You're channeling Dad."

"Yeah, well, it's a good channel."

"Fine. You think of a way to apologize to Johnny. Come on, I want to go see Mr. Peterson."

"Yeah." Scott followed his brother down the stairs, and out the front door.

As the family had grown older, and Scott, Virgil and John had each in turn left the family farm for school, their grandmother's need for a big van had diminished. Earlier in the year, their father had bought her a bright red sedan, which she had fallen in love with.

Just seeing Gordon lounging behind the driver's wheel gave Scott's stomach a twist. Opening the driver's door, Scott shook his head. "Not in this lifetime, Squirt. Get in the back."

The red head sighed, and got out, climbing instead into the backseat. The lack of argument told Scott that the kid had known very well that he wasn't going to get to drive.

As he slid into the driver's seat, Virgil opened up the front passenger door, and hooked a thumb, "Out."

Alan was more pugnacious than his brother and sat glaring up at his brother. "I called shotgun, Virgil, you get in the back."

Virgil just cocked his eyebrow, saying, "Let me put it this way. If you ride into town in the front seat, you can ride right back here the same way, because you won't be coming with me."

"That's okay. Gordy will take me to Garden City. And you don't know the way to the rehab place."

"Al, please?" Scott asked, quietly. He put just enough plea into it that Alan huffed and climbed out. Virgil climbed in, and Alan got in the backseat. Virgil was smart enough not to gloat, and Scott got the big Lexus under way.

Scott automatically reached to turn on the radio. His grandma had it set for an oldies station, and a singer he recognized as Sting filled the car with music.

"Auugghh! Turn it, turn it!" Gordon cried from the backseat.

"Yeah, Scott, anything but that lame old stuff," Alan complained.

"Change the station, and she will know," murmured Virgil.

Scott shot his brother a look, and hit the dial until he found a news station. He ignored the groans from the backseat, and settled himself into the drive.

As they pulled out onto the highway, Virgil perked up. "I've got it!"

"Got what?" Scott asked.

"Herpes?"

"Shut up, Gordon. No, here's what we do. You've got enough time to drop Gordon off and still make it to the airport on time, right?"

"Yes, but we have to get Grandma's car home. She'll notice if it isn't there."

"Yes, she certainly will, but here's the genius part. We drop it off at Diamond Ace, and have it detailed. We tell her it's part of her Christmas present."

Scott felt a slow smile form. "You're right, Virg, that's genius."

"Al, if I ever get so drunk that I turn into a moron, shoot me, would you?"

Scott frowned, and Virgil turned slowly in his seat. "Care to explain that remark?"

"Wow. It's worse than I thought. What's below moron, Al?"

Scott glanced at the rearview mirror and saw Alan shrink away from his brother, who was sitting coolly staring back at Virgil. Shaking his head, Scott said, "All right, no name calling. Virg, stand down. Gordon, what the hell are you talking about?"

With a smirk, Gordon asked, "You're going to pick up Grandma in your car, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Where is Aunt Tina going to ride?"

Scott felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head. His current car was a two-seat sports model. His Aunt Tina was a small woman, but not even she would fit as a third passenger. Alan snickered from the backseat.

"Well, we'll just have to trade cars. You can take the SUV," Virgil said, firmly.

"Wait, if we take Scott's car, there won't be room for Candace," Alan whined.

With a cocked eyebrow, Virgil said, "There will be if you stay home."

Scott bit back a smile. Time for Alan to step up. If he really was only doing it for his girl, then he'd have to agree. He risked a glance at the rearview. Alan was sitting stiffly, a ferocious frown on his face as he tried to think of a way out.

It was Gordon who finally answered. "Guys, the answer is simple. Scott, you drive your car home, I'll follow in Grandma's car, and then Scott can take it out to the airport, and Virg and Alan can head straight over to pick up Candace."

Scott let out a breath. It might be that simple in Gordon's mind, but Scott wasn't nearly as sure. The teenager had been involved in two accidents since getting his license last February.

"That works," Alan said with a sigh of relief.

"We'll see," Virgil said. Scott knew his brother was thinking furiously, just the same as he was. The problem was, there was no way to refuse without Gordon realizing his brothers didn't trust him.

Scott checked his rearview, and sighed inwardly. From the tight look on his face it was clear that Gordon knew exactly what the problem was. Coming to a sudden decision, Scott sketched a nod. "Nothing to see, Virg. Gordy's right, the answer is simple. Of course, you ding this car, Squirt, and I will personally gift wrap you for Grandma."

Any qualms Scott had evaporated when he glimpsed the look on his younger brother's face. The family book on Gordon was that he didn't care what people thought of him, he was his own man, and if his brothers thought he was strange, that was okay by him. Scott knew better. He knew that Gordon craved his family's approval. Didn't mean he wasn't strange, though.

Arriving in town, Scott turned down a side street and two doors down, pulled into the tiny lot at the Jayhawks Sports Bar. "Ah, crap."

The lot was empty. Virgil looked around in disbelief. "Where's my car?"

"Maybe they got towed," Gordon said uncertainly.

"Damn it. Connelly." Virgil spat the name of the county sheriff.

Scott felt the headache trying to catch his attention. He made an effort to control his blood pressure. The sheriff had it in for his dad, and if towing Scott and Virgil's cars put a crimp in Jeff's life, it was just fine by him.

"Tsk, idiots." Alan said in disgust. Scott looked in his rearview to see his youngest brother pulling out his cell phone. He hit a speed dial number and held the phone to his ear. "Yo, Johnny, where you at?"

All three brothers stared at their youngest sibling with interest. Alan stared off into the middle distance. "Yeah? Cool. Well, you owe me fifty bucks… Yup. Remember that pig's ear? I cut a chunk of it, and pretended it was a piece of my nose. I came running in with, like, blood all over my face, and I tossed the chunk to Virgil. It was great. He turned, like, wicked witch green, and puked all over the place… Naw. He's tougher than that. I figured I'd rig his car with a butt bomb. If that doesn't make him toss, nothing will… No, that's the beauty of it. He'll never know it was me, he'll have to figure is was just bad beans…Yeah, really bad beans… Yeah… Well, that's why I was calling… The ego twins crashed, and I came into town with Gords. I figured I'd set the bomb, but when I got to Jayhawks, the car wasn't there… Uh huh… Are you kidding? Wow… No way. Those people out there are nuts. I happen to value my life… Fear not, I will do it. Just not there. Hey, here comes Gordy. I'll talk to you later. Fifty bucks, Johnny. Don't forget."

Alan disconnected the call, and smiled sweetly. Virgil raised an eyebrow. "The ego twins?"

"A butt bomb?" Scott asked in the same soft deadly tone.

"All in a good cause, guys. Your cars are at Chop Hog."

Scott started with a small gasp. He swallowed, as he looked over at Virgil, who was frowning, pale-faced. Into the sudden silence, Gordon whistled low. "And I thought I was kidding about booze turning you guys into morons."

The Chop Hog was a notorious biker bar outside of town on the way to Jetmore. The clientele was a mix of ex-cons and drunken hard cases, and the place rarely made it through the weekend without one or more bar brawls that sent people to the jail ward of the local hospital.

What really gave Scott a shiver, though, was the dive's reputation for rats and cockroaches roaming freely. Silently, he agreed with Gordon's belief that only a moron would go there. But there was a certain order to be maintained. "Shut up, Gordon."

Rather than say anything else, he just put the Lexus into gear and headed back to the main road out of town. As soon as they had crossed the railroad tracks, Scott gave out orders. "All right, guys, as soon as we get there, we get into our cars and we get out. Don't make eye contact, and don't say anything. Got it?"

There were quiet mumbles of agreement, and Scott felt his hands tighten on the wheel. Virgil looked over, and seeing the tension, said, "Hey, look, there's no reason to believe there's going to be trouble, right? I mean, it isn't even noon, yet. Most of those guys will still be passed out somewhere."

What Virgil said made sense, but still, Scott couldn't quite relax. It was one thing to face down some tattooed biker on his own, but to take his little brothers into the situation was a whole different ball of wax.

With his jaw tight, Scott said, "Here's the plan. When we get there, Virg and I will get out. Gordon, you get in the driver's seat and take off. Alan you just stay where you are. We'll meet back at Grilley's."

"It's just a dumb bar, Scott." Alan shook his head.

"Yeah. I'm not driving off until you guys get your cars started," Gordon said in a stubborn tone.

Virgil shook his head. "No. Scott and I can handle ourselves, but if we have to protect you two, we could get into trouble."

"Hello? Black belt, here. And Gordy's stronger than any booze hound." Alan had that supreme confidence that only comes from someone who had never had a serious fight in his life.

Gordon was more sensible. "We'll lock the doors, and keep the engine running, but I am not leaving until you guys are safe."

Scott had pretty much decided to turn the car around, when the bar came up on the left. As they drew near, he could see beer-bellied guys dressed in chains, leather and greasy hair lounging around an outside picnic table. The number of bikes in the parking lot indicated there were more inside.

"Ah, shit!" Virgil swore. Scott looked to see his brother's SUV had its taillights and rear window busted out. Worse, there were a couple of hard-looking guys using Scott's front passenger tire as a urinal.

Feeling the heat rise on his neck, Scott pulled into the parking lot, braking hard behind his sports car. As he threw the car into park, he felt a hand on his arm. Virgil looked him straight in the eye. "Don't make eye contact, don't say anything, right?"

The earnest look in his brother's eye, helped Scott regain control of his temper. "Right."

Still, he opened the door with more force than necessary. He stalked over to his car, half hoping the two idiots still standing by his front tire would give him a reason, any reason, to take them down. As it was, they both moved off, sneering to show they weren't impressed.

Scott waited until Virgil was in his car and starting the engine before opening his own door and slipping in behind the steering wheel. As soon as he had his motor running, he heard the crunch of gravel as Gordon wheeled their grandmother's car out of the parking lot.

He waited until Virgil had backed out and followed the red Lexus before putting his own car into gear and following. As the little convoy headed back into town, Scott released a breath. He realized he'd gotten off lightly, compared to his brother.

In no time at all, Gordon steered into the parking lot of the donut shop, and Virgil and Scott followed. Pulling up next to Virgil, Scott rolled down his window, as Alan skipped over to hop into the SUV. "Virg, you gotta do something about those tail lights. You can get a ticket, you know."

"Already on it. We're going to stop at Ben's house. He has red Mylar and masking tape. That'll hold me until we get to Garden City. Pulanski's has the taillights and the rear window in stock, so I'll be all set. This afternoon, will you help me get the window replaced?"

"Yeah. No problem." Scott smiled. Between Virgil's window, and Gordon's muffler, it sounded like they'd have a good afternoon working on cars together. Just like old times.

The grin on his brother's face said that Virgil was thinking the same thing. Scott glanced up at the lowering clouds and said, "Hey, be careful, will ya? It looks like snow is on its way."

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "I'm not the one who's been stationed in Florida for the last year. You be careful, you're going farther than me, and the traffic is worse down in Dodge."

"All right. I'll see you at home," Scott nodded. He looked around and frowned. "Now, where the heck did Gordon get to?"

Coming up between the two cars, Gordon said, "I'm right here. Uh, this one's yours, Virg."

The teen handed his brother a bag in the distinctive colors of Grilley's Donut Shop and Bakery. When Virgil took the bag, Gordon reached into the cup tray he was carrying, and pulled out a large cup of something steaming.

Virgil opened the bag and peering in, broke into a huge smile. "Aw, thanks, Squirt. I really needed this."

Gordon rolled his eyes and cleared his throat. Virgil had already pulled out one of Grilley's huge caramel sticky buns. He glanced around and saw the cup Gordon was holding up, and eagerly reached for it.

Gordon turned to Scott. "Here's yours."

Scott accepted his bag, and opened it up to find at least a half dozen fudge cream puffs. He looked back up to find Gordon holding out a large plastic bottle of milk. "Hey, how come Virgil gets coffee, and I get milk?"

"Virgil got hot chocolate. No caffeine for six hours after taking the LifeReboot."

Scott pulled a face. "Fine. Let's get going. I want to follow you home. Oh, and thanks, kiddo."

Gordon acknowledged the thanks with a wave as he trotted over to the bright red Lexus. Virgil had rolled his window back up, and he saluted his older brother with a lift of the cup of chocolate. Scott grinned and lifted his milk in response.

Gordon had the Lexus on the move, and Scott hustled to pull in behind him. The two brothers drove through town, and out toward their home. To Scott's surprise, he could find no fault with Gordon's driving. The teen had a steady hand on the wheel, and seemed meticulous in obeying the speed limit.

When they reached the farm, Gordon got out of the car nonchalantly, but Scott knew his kid brother was anxious for anything Scott would say. Grabbing the bag of cream puffs and milk, Scott got out of his car, and approached where Gordon was standing diffidently by.

"Okay, give me the keys. Listen, we're going to work on your muffler and Virgil's back window, so go get the heaters in the barn up and running, right?"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

"Good. Oh, and it wouldn't hurt to run the vacuum in the house. Like you say, Christmas is coming, and we don't want Grandma peeved."

Gordon cocked his head, a small smile on his lips. He knew what Scott was saying by not saying anything. "Okay, Scott. Oh, and you're going to want to go down Miller Lane at least to F Street. They're doing work on the highway, and it's up to an hour delay."

"Thanks, Squirt." Scott said as he slid into the car seat. Gordon headed for the house as Scott adjusted the seat and mirrors. He appreciated the news about the highway, and glanced down at his watch. He realized that even with the slower route down the country lane, he'd still be in time to watch the plane land.

Pulling out onto the road, he settled into the drive. His grandma's car wasn't anything he'd choose for himself, but it was a comfortable car, and he couldn't fault the handling. As he made his way down the road toward Dodge City, the low, dark clouds above got darker and lower, and by the time he hit the access road into the airport, there was a light rain interspersed with a few snow flurries.

The airport was small and homey compared to the Air Force bases that Scott dealt with, and he couldn't help but smile when a parking space opened up directly across from the entrance just as he pulled up.

As he got out of the car, he felt a sense of homecoming. Before his father had built a runway at the farm two years earlier, Scott had spent a lot of time at this airport. He had his first flight lessons here, and before he'd left for college, put in a lot of flight hours.

He'd also spent a fair amount of time here just sitting and watching planes taking off and landing. It was a pastime that he'd always enjoyed, and he was pleased he'd have a bit of time today to enjoy it again.

Pulling his jacket close, he strode across the parking lot, carrying his milk and cream puffs. Entering the small terminal, he felt a small grin form. It hadn't changed a bit. Hard plastic chairs facing the wall to wall window at the back of the building. Automated scanners flashing a quick green as they checked him for contraband. The smell of strong coffee from the small snack kiosk. The muted excitement of people waiting to board or greet a flight.

At this time of day the waiting area was uncrowded, and Scott headed for the seats close to the boarding gate. His step faltered a moment when he saw a familiar blond head.

Irritated, Scott strode over to the chair where his brother John sprawled. "What are you doing here?"

John looked up with a blank stare that instantly got Scott's back up. "Making sure that Grandma didn't get stranded."

With his jaw muscles tightening to the point of cracking, Scott gritted out, "Well, she isn't stranded, so you can just get the hell out of here."

John snorted. "Why don't you just go crawl back into your bottle?"

It took every bit of his self-restraint to keep Scott from reaching out and grabbing his brother. He stood breathing heavily for a few moments. "We're not having this discussion here, John. Go away. Or go home."

John's own jaw worked, and the lazy sprawl disappeared as he sat up straight and stiff. "You called me a waste of skin, Scott."

His brother said it quietly, and it didn't take much for Scott to realize that John had planned to do this in a public place where they would both be constrained by nearby strangers to act reasonably. Taking a firm hold on his temper, Scott replied, "Nineteen years, John. For nineteen years, I've cleaned up after you, taken you to club meetings, stuck up for you, made sure you had everything you needed. If nineteen years of caring doesn't rate me some slack when I make a mistake, then the hell with you."

"You called me a prickless coward. You told me all of the book learning in the world and I was still dumb as a stump. When you called me at two in the morning and asked me to come get you, I didn't question it. I didn't say no, I just came, and you shit all over me, Scott."

Scott ran his hand over his face, and sat down next to his brother. He heard the underlying hurt in his brother's voice. His mind ranged back in time to a dark period shortly after their mother had died. He was just a kid then, but he could still remember how much it had hurt one night when his father had lashed out at him.

Scott knew that his brothers relied on him and craved his attention and love. John wasn't as obvious about it as, say, Alan, but he wanted Scott's approval just as much as any of them. "Johnny, I'm serious here. For nineteen years, I've been good to you. You can't let some asinine remarks sweep that all away. I'm sorry. Obviously, I'm a pretty mean drunk. But believe me, I never, ever meant any of that crap. I mean, dumb as a stump? You? Get serious."

John wouldn't look over, but rubbed a thumb up against his eye. Scott sat back to give his brother the time he needed. It took the blond a few minutes to stop jittering and get himself under control. Still not looking over, John sniffed and said, "I do have a prick, you know. And it's a big one."

Scott barked a laugh, and John glanced over, a small smile on his face. Relieved that John had forgiven him, Scott reached over and punched his brother in the arm. "Good one, Johnny."

Scott took a deep breath, and schooled his face to somber reflection. "John, let me tell you just how sorry I am about last night." He held up the bag from Grilley's. "I have fudge cream puffs here. Now, you know how I feel about fudge cream puffs. And you know I haven't had any since last summer. I am so sorry about calling you names that I am actually going to share. You can have one… no, two of my cream puffs."

John's eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed into skepticism. "Even if I just smooshed them together and tossed them in the trash?"

Scott gasped theatrically, and steadied himself with a hand on John's shoulder. "I… I…," he paused, before continuing, "Yes, John, even if you commit a sacrilege."

"I get to pick the ones I want?"

Scott chuckled. "You never know where the line is, do you?"

John smiled sweetly. "I know exactly where the line is."

Scott rolled his eyes, and held out the bag. John snatched, and turned his back on his brother, opening the bag and making a show of inspecting the contents.

When his brother pulled one out, Scott sucked in the bit of drool that instantly developed. John handed back the bag. "I only want one."

Scott snorted a laugh, and taking back the bag reached in and snagged one for himself. Sitting back and savoring the smooth creamy filling, he held up his bottle of milk. "I only got one milk."

"That's okay," John replied, reaching down beside his chair and coming back up with a cup of coffee. "What's with the milk, anyway?"

Scott sighed. "The only reason I'm upright right now is that Gordy had some LifeReboot stashed away. Instructions say no caffeine for six hours."

"Oooo," John suddenly exclaimed, pointing out the window.

Scott's interest perked as he saw a vintage Piper Cub dropping onto the runway at what seemed like a snail's pace. "Wow, that baby's gotta be fifty, sixty years old."

"Pretty."

Scott nodded as he watched the immaculate craft taxi toward the private hangars. "I'd like to restore one of those some day."

"You? What for? You know it's so slow it would drive you crazy."

Scott shook his head. "I didn't say I wanted to fly it. I'd just like to work on one."

"There was an experimental that came in a while ago. One of those Slipper jets. I wouldn't mind a close up look at one of those."

"A Slipper? You're sure? Where did it go?"

John shook his head. "It disappeared around the green hangar down there. I've kind of kept an eye out to see if I could spot the pilot, but no luck."

Scott stared at the green hangar across the field. He took a deep breath. "Maybe I should let you take Grandma and Aunt Tina home. After all, you came all this way."

"She's expecting you, Scott," John said, then frowned. "How did you get here anyway? You and Virgil left your cars at the bar. What are you driving? Gordon's junker?"

"No, I've got Grandma's Lexus."

"Oh, okay. Listen, we need to pick up you guys' cars before dark. They're at the Chop Hog, and that place isn't safe."

"Too late. We went out and picked them up. Virg's rear window was broken out. And the tail lights."

John shook his head. "I still can't believe you guys went there."

"Obviously it was temporary insanity brought on by alcohol poisoning."

John snorted. "I can believe that. Virgil couldn't put two words together."

"Yeah, well, watch out for him. He's convinced the only way to prove we didn't mean anything we said is to take you out and get you as drunk as we were."

John started to say something, then just shook his head. Scott cast a worried glance his brother's way. "Did I ever tell you about the time Dad called me a spoiled brat?"

John raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Scott, Dad thinks the sun shines out of your butt. He never called you a brat."

"Shows what you know."

Scott sat back, knowing full well John wouldn't be able to resist asking. To his credit, John held out for a full five minutes, before the curiosity got the better of him. "Why would Dad call you a brat? He never calls any of us names."

"It was right after Mom died. When I think back on it, I'm pretty sure he was drunk. The next day he came and apologized. But the thing about it is, even though I forgave him, and even though I know he never meant it, I still remember it, and I still remember how I felt. I know I hurt you, Johnny, and I can't tell you how sorry I am."

"Scott, stop apologizing. It's okay, really. I'm over it already," John said quietly. "Of course, next time you go to the Chop Hog, you're on your own."

"There's Grandma's flight," Scott said, standing. He wasn't really comfortable baring his soul, but sometimes with John, or Virgil in particular, it just happened.

John joined him at the window, watching the small turbojet with a critical eye. Both brothers winced a bit at the touchdown. It wasn't a severe hit, but not as soft as either one would allow were they at the controls.

The jet disappeared behind parked aircraft as it ran out its landing, then reappeared a few minutes later as it taxied to the terminal. Unlike larger airports, there were no boarding tubes, and the passengers exited down a portable stairway to the tarmac below.

"There she is," John muttered as Ruth Tracy appeared at the top of the stairway, followed closely by her friend Tina Fought.

Scott felt that tiny rush of relief that she had made it safely home. He stood with John watching her make her way down the long flight of stairs and then moved with his brother to stand near the arrival doorway.

The uniformed attendant opened the door, letting in a cold rush of rain-scented air. A line of people made their way through the door, most searching for someone meeting them. When his grandma stepped through, Scott smiled wide and raised a hand to catch her attention.

Ruth spotted her grandsons almost immediately, and her look of delight at seeing them there warmed Scott's heart. He and John both moved forward to enfold the small woman in a hug.

"Grandma," Scott smiled and she pulled him down for a kiss. "It's so good to see you. How was Vermont?"

"It was cold, baby. Very cold. It is good to see you, too! How was your flight home?"

Scott chuckled, "Grandma, that's my line. I've been here for two days already. My flight is yesterday's news."

Scott had to step back to let his brother have a chance to greet their grandmother. He eyed Tina Fought standing to the side, hands on hips, and a challenging look in her eye. Scott grinned, and swooped down on the woman, wrapping her in a hug no less tight than the one he gave his grandma. "Aunt Tina, I've missed you! How are you?"

Ruth's friend hugged Scott back, saying, "I've been fine, sweetie. I've missed you, too. You don't write your grandma nearly enough."

Scott held the woman at bay, a look of mock consternation on his face. "Auntie, I call her every week, sometimes twice a week."

"Yes, but she doesn't always remember everything you said. I feel left out." Tina batted her eyes and stuck out her lower lip.

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh."

"Oh, all right. She does tell me everything. But she worries about you and so do I."

"Oh, I don't worry all that much. Scott, honey, can you carry this bag, and John, if you'll just get that one, we can be on our way. It's been a long trip and both Tina and I want to get home."

"Yes, ma'am." Scott dutifully picked up the bag in question, and offered his arm to his Aunt Tina. He looked over to where John was escorting their grandma, and said, "John, I'll tell you what. Give me that bag, and take the baggage claim tags. I'll get these beautiful ladies home, and you can follow with the luggage."

John nodded once, and taking the claim tags, trotted off toward the luggage carousel. With a raised eyebrow, Ruth spoke, "You brought two cars?"

Scott ducked his head. "We had a miscommunication."

Both women had speculative looks, but Scott firmed up his jaw, and offered each an arm, saying, "If you lovely ladies will join me, we'll get you home before the snow really starts flying."

Ruth and Tina shared a look but both took hold, and the three of them proceeded across the lobby and out the door. Seeing her car parked only a few feet away from the door, Ruth visibly relaxed. "You know, I had this vision of you picking us up in that little speedster of yours, and I didn't know how we would all fit."

"Well, I had been thinking about using some bungee cords, maybe tying Aunt Tina to the hood, but Gordy was talking about keeping the Christmas gift count up, and I had second thoughts."

"There, see, Ruth, he is a thoughtful boy. We won't have to leash him to the back bumper after all."

All three laughed as they reached the car. Scott handed his grandmother into the front passenger seat, then hustled to hold the door for his Aunt Tina, who was always independent. The small woman had just naturally opened the door to the backseat, and climbed in. Her eyebrows went up when she realized Scott was holding the door, but then a smile at the courtesy came over her face. Scott grinned, wiggling his eyebrows, then trotted around to the driver's side.

All three were quiet as Scott pulled out onto the highway, but as he got going, Ruth asked quietly, "And how did you come to have a miscommunication with John?"

Scott glanced over, then sighed. "Virgil and I went out last night to celebrate the season, and John thought I might be incapacitated. He just wanted to be sure you didn't have to wait."

Ruth reached over to caress her grandson's cheek. "Well, I must say, you do look a bit peaked, honey. I hope you boys didn't party too hard. It's a bad habit to develop, and once learned, very hard to break."

"Oh, you know me and Virg, Grandma. We take care of each other. Now, tell me all about Vermont. Did you have a good time?"

Scott knew he hadn't fooled his grandmother, but she settled into telling him of all her adventures, with Aunt Tina supplying her own witty narrative. By the time they reached Kalvesta, and Tina's small duplex, they were all in cheerful, festive mood. "Aunt Tina, you've got to be sure to tell Dad that story about the maple sap, he'll love it."

"Well, it didn't seem nearly as funny at the time. Oh!" Tina startled as her door was opened from the outside.

Scott grinned as he got out. John had caught up to them before they had ever reached town, and now stood at Tina's door, a hand extended. "You startled me, John! Ruth, don't get out. I'm too tired to play hostess, and I'm sure you are too. The boys will get my luggage in. I'll call you tonight."

"All right, honey. Don't forget to put that maple candy in the refrigerator."

"I won't. Bye, love."

"Bye-bye."

Tina took Scott's arm against the rain-slicked walkway, and with John following behind with her luggage, made her way to her front door. Scott took her keys and opened the door for her. He frowned at the rush of cold air in the home, and walked over to the thermostat to turn on the heat.

"You want your bags in the bedroom, Aunt Tina?"

"Yes, thank you, John. If you'll put the pink bag on the bed, I'd appreciate it." She hugged herself against the cold room. "It's chilly in here. I suppose I'll have to leave my coat on for awhile."

"I'm sorry. I should have thought of that and come over and turned the heat on this morning." Scott shook his head.

"Oh, don't you worry about it, Scott. I'm tougher than I look."

"Really? 'Cause you've always looked pretty tough to me," John said coming out of the bedroom. "Aunt Tina, can I make a market run for you? Milk? Fresh fruit? Ice cream?"

Tina looked at John with real gratitude. "You'd do that for me? I actually would appreciate it. I'll just write you up a list. Scott, don't let your grandmother wait, you go and get her home. I'll send John along in a while."

Scott smiled with real fondness, and stepped over to give the woman a kiss. "Okay, Aunt Tina. I'm glad you made it home safely. Thanks for going with my grandma, keeping her out of trouble. Oh, and tell Johnny about the maple sap."

"All right, Sweetie, now get moving."

Scott headed out the door, and gazed up at the sky. It had finally opened up, and the snow was falling fast and heavy. He turned his jacket up and trotted to the car.

As he got in, Ruth asked, "Everything all right?"

Scott gave a little disgusted shake of his head. "The house was freezing. If I had half a brain, I would have come over this morning and got her heater going."

As he pulled away, Ruth looked back at the house. "Is John staying?"

"He offered to go to the store and get Aunt Tina some supplies. She was going to make him a list."

"Good. I worry about her all alone there."

"You think we should go back, take her home with us?"

"Oh, no. She needs to sleep in her own bed tonight, and so do I. Vacations are all fine and well, but there really is no place like home, and no bed like your own."

Scott nodded, then said, "Snow's really starting to come down. I'm glad you were on the two o'clock flight."

"We almost weren't. The weather was awful, and one of the stewards said that the airport shut down right after we took off."

"Timing is everything."

"Yes it is. Now, just how hard did you and your brother party last night?"

Scott took a moment to turn onto the main highway. Knowing his grandmother would spot a lie, he said simply, "Too hard. Once we got going, we just didn't stop. Johnny had to come out to the bar to pick us up. I guess we were pretty rude to him and this morning he was pretty upset."

Ruth shook her head. "I'll never understand what it is about alcohol that men find so appealing. Hard liquor has ruined more relationships in this town than I care to think about. If it drove a wedge between you and any of your brothers, it would break my heart, and I think yours too."

"Yes, ma'am. You're right. Fortunately, Johnny is a forgiving kind of guy, and we had a good talk at the airport. I think we're okay." Scott thought about it for a moment, then said, "Of course, I'm not so sure about Virgil. John gave Alan some money to play a dirty trick, and Virgil got the worst of it."

"Oh?" Ruth cocked her head with interest. Scott told her all about the bloody nose that Alan had faked, and then told her about the rest of his morning, only leaving out that the LifeReboot that he and Virgil had taken had come from their brother Gordon.

By the time he had told her that Virgil and Alan had gone off to visit Mr. Peterson, they were pulling in the long drive to their farmhouse home. As Scott came to a stop, the front door of the house flew open and Gordon came flying out.

"Grandma! Grandma, Grandma, Grandma! I am so glad you're home!" The redheaded teen was bouncing as he opened the car door and helped his grandmother out.

"And why is that? Run out of frozen dinners, have you?"

Ruth's severe tone didn't carry past the twinkle in her eye, and Gordon reached out and enveloped her in a bear hug. "Nope. I just missed you. Didja have a good time? Was that Weatherby guy still handsome?"

Scott stifled a grin as he followed his grandmother and Gordon into the house. It was a poorly hidden secret that one of the main reasons that Ruth and Tina had chosen to go to Vermont was that a TV actor from long ago had been starring at a dinner theater play there. Both women had been looking forward to seeing him.

"Well, let's just say that he's weathered well," Ruth replied smugly.

Gordon laughed with delight and Scott joined in, and both helped their grandmother off with her coat. She patted her hair and looked around the room. "You boys cleaned! Thank you. I was expecting the place to be a mess."

Gordon snorted, "After last year? Grandma, I'm no genius, but I know not to repeat my mistakes."

Ruth reached up to caress the teen's cheek, then said, "I don't suppose you thought to take anything down for dinner?"

"Actually, Al and I put some stuff in the crock pot so you wouldn't have to worry about cooking tonight."

Scott's eyebrows went up. This was the first he'd heard of that. Ruth frowned. "Exactly what kind of stuff?"

"Um, stew meat and potatoes and carrots and onions. We got a recipe out of your little blue box."

"And the onion soup? Did you use that?"

"Yes. We found everything on the list, and we cut it up just like you always do, so it should be okay."

Scott stared at his brother. "You cooked. And you cleaned."

Gordon frowned. "You've cooked before. What's the big deal?"

Ruth took Gordon by the arm and headed for the kitchen. "The big deal is you did it for me, and I am truly grateful, baby. Now you come and show me what's in the crock pot, and I'll show you a couple of tricks that aren't in that recipe."

Scott stood watching them go, not overwhelmed, exactly, but maybe just a bit whelmed. The idea of Al and Gordy cooking voluntarily was going to take some getting used to.

After a moment Scott shook his head and took out his cell phone. He hit a speed dial number, and waited as it rang. "Hello?"

"Alan, what are you doing with Virgil's phone?"

"He's driving, and he has to concentrate. It's snowing."

"Where are you?"

"We just dropped off Candace, and we're on our way home."

"What time do you think you'll get here?"

"Virg says about fifteen minutes."

"Okay. Be careful."

"Yes, Mother."

Scott grunted, then disconnected the call. Hitting another speed dial number, he waited until, after three rings, John picked up. "Hello, Scott."

Ignoring the sigh of resignation, Scott asked, "Where are you? Are you on your way home yet?"

"No, I ran into Josh and Zack. We're racing our cars on the Franklin's pond. Oh, look, there goes Zack through the ice. Ah well, my car's lighter, so I'll be fine."

Scott listened, then sighed. "Are you at the store? Or are you on your way home?"

"Well, I was, but I was picked up in the market parking lot by a giant condor. If you look up, I'm that tiny black speck about three thousand feet up. Don't worry, it's got a good hold on me, so I don't think I'll fall to a horrible death."

"John…"

"Scott, I know how to drive in the snow. I'm fine. I'll be home in thirty minutes, okay?"

"All right. If it's going to be longer, call me and let me know."

"Sure. In the meantime, why don't you pull out the dictionary and look up the word 'smother.' I'm sure your picture is featured prominently."

"Yadda, yadda. Just be careful."

"Oh, okay. I'll be careful, but only because you told me to."

Scott rolled his eyes and disconnected. He looked around the room, at a momentary loss for something to do. Nothing jumped out at him, so he headed into the kitchen. He found his grandmother at the table, hands wrapped around a coffee mug.

Ruth made a move to get up, "Would you like some coffee, honey? I've just made a fresh pot."

"No, don't move, Grandma. I can get it. Where's Gordon?"

"He went out to the barn to do something with his car," Ruth said, waving a hand vaguely in the direction of the door.

Scott stood, torn. He didn't want to leave his grandmother alone, but he had a strong need to supervise the installation of his brother's car muffler. Ruth apparently saw his quandary, because she casually stood up, saying, "You know, your brothers did such a good job with that stew that I think I'll just go up to my room and take a nice nap."

Scott smiled fondly. "Okay, Grandma. I'll be out in the barn if you need me."

"All right, Sweetheart."

Scott headed out the door, looking up at the sky as he did. It looked to be a heavy storm, and in fact, in just the last half hour since it started, there was already a couple of inches on the ground. Scott shivered crossing the yard, and hoped Gordon hadn't forgotten the barn heaters.

As he entered through a side door, a welcome blast of warm air hit him, and he gave a small sigh of relief. Looking around, he found the red head perched on the hood of his old Toyota, nose stuck in a book.

"Gordy, what're you doing?"

Gordon looked up. "I'm reading the manual on how to change the muffler. Like you always say, when all else fails, read the instructions."

Scott cocked his head to one side and crossed his arms. "Yes, when all else fails. But all else has not failed. I'm here. And Virgil and the guys will be along in a little bit. All else has definitely not failed."

"Even Johnny?"

"Yes, even Johnny."

"Cool! Hey, you wanna see my seats? Al and I got them at the Pick-A-Part over in Jetmore."

Gordon hopped off the hood, and opened the front door of the car, eager to show his big brother. Scott glanced in, then looked closer, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

When Gordon had gotten the car last summer, the interior was trashed. The teen had claimed it didn't matter to him because it was only a way to get to and from swim meets. Scott had taken him at his word, and was surprised to see how good the interior looked. "You replaced the headliner?"

"Yeah, and the steering wheel and remember how the dashboard had that big crack in it? Oh, and the passenger side door, too. Remember how the window control was just hanging there?"

"I do," Scott smiled. "This looks really decent. I didn't know you had it in you."

Gordon shrugged. "Well, to be honest, I didn't. Not really. But then Al said he'd help me fix it up, and then when Dad saw us working on it, he jumped right in to help. You'll notice the heavy-duty seatbelts."

Scott snorted a laugh at the wry comment. "Well, it looks really good."

"Yeah, and it runs a lot better too. Dad really knows his way around cars, you know?"

"Oh, yes, that I know. Listen, let's get it up on the ramps. The guys will be here, and I want to have this, and Virgil's rear window fixed by dinner time."

"Okay." The two brothers got to work, lugging out two tire ramps that would allow them to position the car a good two feet above the floor of the barn.

When it came time to drive the car up onto the ramps, Scott used the excuse of wanting to see how it ran to drive it himself. The chance of the car slipping or the ramps buckling was slight, but not one Scott was willing to risk his younger brother for.

Gordon didn't seem to notice as he pulled out the new muffler from its box. The red head looked up as Scott dropped down to the floor of the barn, then over at the big double door as the sound of a car got close. The door slid open, then was pushed open wide by Alan so that Virgil could maneuver his SUV in.

Despite a heavy jacket, hat and gloves, Alan was ruddy-cheeked with the cold. As soon as Virgil had cleared the doorway, the fifteen-year-old hustled to get the door closed again. It couldn't be soon enough for Scott's taste, as he shivered from the blast of snow-laden air that filled the barn.

Virgil got out of his car as red-cheeked as his brother. "Man, even with the heater blasting it got cold. Hard to believe just one open window can freeze your ass off."

"Did you get the window?" Scott asked.

"Absolutely. Damn thing cost a mint, but I got it. So, how are we going to do this? Both cars at once, or my car first?"

"Hey!" Gordon protested indignantly.

Scott raised a hand to quiet his brother. "Muffler first. It's already up on the lifts."

"Scott, it's not going to take all four of us."

"Muffler first. You can sit over there if you don't want to help." Scott pointed to a hay bale, knowing full well Virgil wouldn't want to be left out.

Virgil rolled his eyes, then took command. "All right, get the creepers out, guys, we're going under."

Gordon and Alan both moved with alacrity, pulling out the low sleds that allowed one to slide under the carriage of the car. Alan moved to hand one to Scott, but he shook his head. "I'm handing the tools. You three get under there."

Alan's eyes got big. Among the first jobs Scott had ever had was helping his father by handing him tools. It was only after he could name every tool in the big rolling tool chest that his father allowed him to get under the car with him. The same had held true with all of his younger brothers.

It would be easier to just do the work himself, but Scott figured that changing out a muffler was a job both of his youngest brothers needed to learn. Soon, all three of his brothers were flat on their backs under the car, with only their feet sticking out.

Scott made a mental note to ask his Dad if new cross trainers were on the list of gifts that Gordon was scheduled to get. Looking closer, he realized that Virgil's shoes were looking pretty shabby too. He sighed, not relishing a trip to the mall this close to the holiday.

He listened to the snippets of conversation coming from under the car. Virgil was instructing Gordon on just how to do the job. Alan was kibitzing from the side, occasionally lending a hand to hold things steady.

Scott stood by, handing out wrenches and other tools as required. He missed this. His brothers had always stuck together and helped each other out. It wasn't until he had gone out into the real world that Scott has discovered that this camaraderie was not the norm.

It didn't take long, and soon he could tell his brothers were finishing up. He shifted in place, trying to come up with a logical reason to double check their work. It wasn't that he didn't trust Virgil. He did. But where cars were concerned, lives could be on the line, and if anything were to happen to any of his brothers, he didn't know what he would do.

Scott had just about decided that he'd wait until everyone had gone to bed, then he'd come out and just take a look. Suddenly, Virgil scooted out from under the car, and held up his hand in a mute request for help up.

Scott obliged his brother, grasping the hand, and pulling Virgil upright. His brother surprised him by making a grand gesture to the creeper. "Your carriage awaits."

"What?"

"The creeper. You lie on it so you can get under the car."

"Yeah, so?"

"Oh, come on, Scotty, you mean to tell us you don't want to check our work?" Gordon came out from under the car and sat up on his creeper.

"Yeah, Scott, you know you want to," Alan grinned, as he followed suit.

Scott froze, unsure how he felt about it. On the one hand, it had to be a good thing that his brothers knew him so well and didn't take offense at his desire to keep them safe. On the other hand, the three smug grins were as annoying as hell.

Finally he stuck his chin out and his nose up. "Fine. If you guys don't trust your own work, I'm more than happy to give a second opinion."

All three brothers laughed at the pose, and Scott had to give in and laugh himself. He lowered himself onto the creeper and slid under the car. He checked all of the connections, and nodded in satisfaction.

Slipping out from under the car, he said grudgingly, "Well, I could have done better, but I guess I just have to consider the source."

Alan and Gordon laughed, but Virgil lifted an eyebrow. "Did you bump your head down there?"

"What? No, why?"

"I reckon the only reason you'd think you could do a better job than me is if you hit your head and were suffering from temporary insanity."

"Oooooo! Virg is so gonna take you down, Scotty!"

"Hey, if you guys are gonna fight, do it like adults. Take the Christmas presents you got each other back to the store, and buy an extra one for me," Gordon said in a tone of sweet reason.

It was enough to give both Scott and Virgil a reason to back off, and turn identical annoyed looks on their brother. Virgil said, "Better plan. We take back the gifts we bought you and buy each other a make up gift."

"Make up gifts? What, like some eyeliner?" Alan crowed, starting to laugh.

"No, nothing quite that obvious. Probably just some anti-aging cream and a bit of color to bring out their cheekbones." Gordon smiled, maintaining his composure.

Alan snorted, then nodded his head. "Yeah, color would be good. They look like the walking dead."

"Naw, they've always looked that way. But you know, the wrinkles are starting to show. Take Scott there. Doesn't he look a bit saggy to you?"

"Absolutely. And have you noticed that double chin Virg has going? I don't know if they make enough make up to cover it up."

Scott threw Virgil a glance, and they both turned their backs on their younger brothers. Virgil sighed, and Scott gave him a commiserating look. When the two youngest Tracys got onto what their dad called the 'terrible two schtick,' the only thing a sensible person could do was ignore them and wait them out.

"We're going to have to disassemble the rear door to install the window properly," Virgil said, raising his voice a bit to be heard over the ramblings of his brothers.

"Yeah, it's just as well. The taillights are a pain to change out on these Rigors." Scott frowned. "Uh, you go get the glass, I wanna check something."

Scott moved away to the far side of the barn, then pulled out his phone. He hit the speed dial and glanced at his watch. On the second ring, John picked up. "Yes, Scott?"

"I asked you to call me if you were going to be late getting home."

"Yes, you did."

"John, you said thirty minutes. It's been forty-five. Where are you?"

"I'm in the laundry room helping Grandma."

That statement short-circuited Scott's incipient ire. "Oh. Uh, well, are you going to come out to the barn? We've got the muffler installed, but we still have Virgil's rear window and taillights to do."

"As soon as I get her laundry started, and the luggage put away, I'll be out."

"Okay, but hurry it along. The terrible two have started in, and you know how that ticks off Virgil," Scott said, wearily. John was the only one who had any hope of getting the two teens to stop. He had a way with a cutting remark that Scott could only admire.

"Yeah, I'll be right out."

Scott grunted an acknowledgement, and put away his phone. He listened to his kid brothers for a moment and then sighed. They had moved on from make up to Virgil's taste in clothing.

Scott could see the tense shoulders on his brother, and moved over to where the young man was sliding a large piece of glass from the cargo bed of the SUV. Grabbing a corner, Scott said quietly, "Just ignore them, Virg. We'll get them later, when they aren't expecting it."

"Can we just shoot them?"

"Nope. They're just getting to the age where they buy us decent Christmas gifts. We need them alive at least until the twenty-fifth."

"Yeah, you always say things like that, but then the twenty-fifth rolls around, and you still won't let me shoot them."

Scott snorted. "Well, Johnny will be here in a minute. He'll shut them up."

"Johnny? Is he talking to us?"

"Yeah. He came out to the airport. We talked, I groveled, so we're okay."

"What about me?"

"Well, I gather you didn't actually say anything, it was all me. He was mad at you because you were with me. Really, I think it's fine. Relax."

Virgil shot his brother a worried glance, then looked over at the side door, and John came in, stamping his feet to get rid of the snow.

Gordon and Alan turned to their blond brother, Alan saying, "Settle something for us, Johnny. Don't you think Virgil would look pretty in pink?"

John sighed and headed over to where Scott and Virgil stood, commenting ironically, "Virgil is not now, nor ever likely to be, pretty."

Gordon and Alan paused for a moment staring after their brother, then in unison, broke out laughing. "Good one, John!" Gordon chortled.

John turned back to the boys, saying, "Come on, let's get to work. Grandma's making biscuits to go with that stew you guys made, and I am craving biscuits tonight."

Alan grinned, and moved to join his older brothers, but Gordon froze, a stricken look on his face. "She's making them now? She said I could help her, she'd show me how to do it."

All four brothers looked over at Scott, who nodded. "You go on ahead, Gordy. A fifth body will just be in the way."

Gordon bit his lip, a frown on his face. "You sure?"

"Go," Virgil said, automatically backing up Scott's decision. With a grateful grin, the redhead nodded once and trotted away.

Scott turned to John. "You want to grab that end? We'll hold it steady, and Virg, you can bolt it in. Al, you get the taillights ready."

As his brothers hopped to it to do his bidding, Scott smiled inwardly, feeling the warmth of the camaraderie wash away the tensions of the day. This evening, he decided he'd get them all together for a game of Scrabble or some other family favorite and just enjoy his time with them.

Christmas was on its way, and his dad would return from his conference at the Pentagon tomorrow. It was going to be a good Christmas for them all, he'd make sure. Nodding to himself, he took charge of the installation, and saw the just plain contentment in his brothers' eyes.

The End


End file.
